


Waltz

by L0chn3ss



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 01:50:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12098091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L0chn3ss/pseuds/L0chn3ss
Summary: "And Maka wanted no part in that, taking the first chance that came to her and escaping into the dancing crowd. Even if it were with a stranger."





	Waltz

**Author's Note:**

> this prompt was originally going to be for kima week’s gloves prompt but i decided to scrap it and make an entire au for the week instead. rather than let it go to waste, i wanted to write this for rare pair apprec day ;3

She didn’t think that she was asking for too much. Just a quiet night away from the mass would have made her happy enough. But when a young man-- tall and formal-- close to her age presented himself in front of her, hand extended, she figured that she could entertain a dance or two.

On a night where it was important to make connections, Maka wondered if this person was put up to the task by an older gentleman to get close to a diplomat’s daughter. It seemed likely enough, she thought, watching women hide and gossiping safely behind their fans. They fluttered their fans and batted their eyelashes at men just as fast as their mouths. And Maka wanted no part in that, taking the first chance that came to her and escaping into the dancing crowd.

Even if it were with a stranger.

He proved to be better than that though, being light on his feet. Leading her into the thick, she registered vaguely that no prying eyes could see where they were-- at least when they were looking in from the outside. They drew quite a bit of attention from the twirling pairings next to them, but the man seemed unbothered. Rather, he seemed too oddly comfortable with the attention.

It should have raised alarms, but Maka was too curious. She asked him for his name after the first half of the minuet played through.

The man responded smoothly with, “Just ‘Kid’ is fine.”

“Kid,” she tried out tentatively. “Is that a term of endearment, or is it an unfortunate nickname?”

He chuckled, “You can say it’s both.”

Cryptic.

They moved across the floor for another song. And then another, sparking a conversation once the violin got particularly loud enough to mask their voices. While she missed a couple of steps between the next transition, Kid held her hand through her stumble, holding her securely until she regained her confidence and found her rhythm again. So he was practiced, Maka thought, suddenly feeling a little outclassed.

She thanked him, and he gave her a “think nothing of it” sort of response. But that of course meant that Maka couldn’t let it go now, embarrassment settling in, believing that he thought lesser of her now that she’d made a fool of herself. Eyebrows furrowing, she quickened her pace into a more elegant waltz, hoping to lead him for a while until she could prove herself that she wasn’t an ordinary maiden. Being her father’s daughter meant that she was trained in certain arts. Whether it meant that she could use her talents to help him close a bargain or to humor a doting father, Maka made herself advantageous.

Kid didn’t falter. Instead, he seemed to smirk in response, matching her footwork and spinning her in his arms when she cued. There was a parting circle on the dance floor as people made room for them, and the couple used that space wisely. They pushed at the border, widening their steps, following the flow of their unchoreographed routine. At one point, she heard him whisper a form of praise. Though before she could return it, he immediately coaxed her into a well planned dip, throwing her off balance and taking the lead from her easily.

With a hand on the small of her back and the other grasping hers, she felt nothing but strength and trust in his actions. The more he showed off his expertise, the more she felt a bubble of laughter rising to her tongue. Perhaps the most foolish move was believing that she wouldn’t enjoy her time with him.

“Alright, I concede!” she finally said, and he bought her back down from her elation, letting her settle into his arms into a much slower, intimate dance.

“Was that too much?”

“No, that was just right,” she hummed, catching her breath, ignoring the applause and the groups filling in the space they left. “You’re not bad, Kid.”

“Well, I should hope not. Being taught from infancy would do that to a person.”

“And you’ve had the luxury of attending lessons?”

“I’d hardly call it a luxury.”

They shared a laugh and a couple more pleasantries. How lovely the night had become and how they hadn’t expected to be pulled into a little competition. How distasteful the spread on the tables were and how the Sir in the curtains was taking a nap at the expense of his suit. The beautiful glow of the chandelier in the middle of the floor. Their pinkening cheeks from all their movement.

Maka didn’t think that their exchange would end, but when their final song concluded, just when the clock struck twelve, Kid gave her one more twirl under his arm, bidding her farewell. Letting go of her waist, he bowed to her, kissing the back of her hand softly. Yet even after all of that, he was still reluctant to go, that is, until he gently tugged at her glove and pressed his lips against her bare knuckles.

Kid left her stunned on the edge of the still dancing mass, watching his back as he walked away.

She heard a reputable nobleman exclaim, “There’s my Kid! Come join our table. We were just discussing some proceedings…”

Did Maka dare-- did she catch the attention of the son of a noble?

As his silhouette melted into the room, she clutched her glove closer to her chest, unsure of where she wanted to go next.


End file.
